


Never Enough

by WesternStar



Category: Dragonheart (1996)
Genre: Bowen is Sad, Character Death Fix, Fever, Friendship, Interspecies Romance, Late Night Conversations, Love, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Post-Canon, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Sick Character, Singing, Stargazing, The Old Code, Tragic Romance, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:15:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29563158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WesternStar/pseuds/WesternStar
Summary: A Fire In Your Eyes sequel!"I thought my heart broke the day I saw Einon for who he truly was, you know. But it was merely cracked. Draco was the one who broke it. He shattered it into pieces when he left me here alone.Alone.Each day, each minute I miss him, I want him. This sorrow, it's... It's torture."
Relationships: Bowen & Kara (Dragonheart), Bowen & Original Male Character(s), Bowen/Draco (Dragonheart), Kara/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there!  
> This is a "Fire In Your Eyes" sequel. (It can be read separately.) The main romance is between Bowen and Draco, so... Be warned, if you're not aware of this already.

Dust was whirling from beneath his steed’s hooves in brown clouds as he rode along the wide path. It led him through the empty village – the people were sleeping as it was only dawn – and around the clusters of small primitive houses with thatched roofs. He pulled at the reins and fixed the collar of his coat, trying to protect his skin from the chilly breeze. He had no intention to linger in this area since he didn’t long to gain the peasants’ attention. But the wind carried soft music and it gained his full attention.

He turned his head to the right, for that was where the tones were coming from and saw a young man sitting on the fence of a sheep pen. The boy was playing the lute, humming a pleasant melody, and the knight couldn’t tear his eyes off him for some reason. Perhaps it was the enthusiasm and happiness in his childish face that fascinated the man. It’s been years since he experienced those feelings.

The young minstrel’s nephrite eyes popped open when the knight’s black stallion whinnied and he almost fell backward into animal muck. His mouth parted when he saw the newcomer, sparkles of interest dancing in his green orbs. The knight knew he made a mistake. He shouldn’t have stayed for so long. Quickly, he spurred his steed into a swift trot and tried to ignore the commotion. 

The minstrel jumped off the fence and rushed after him. “Sir Bowen! Sir Bowen, please! Give me a minute of your time! Just a moment!” he called, voice full of hope. 

Bowen didn’t have the heart to outright overlook his urgent pleas and thus stopped. He glanced over his shoulder, muttering: “What do you want, bard?” 

“Sir, I’ve…” The young man tried to catch his breath by inhaling deeply. “I’ve been hearing stories about your marvelous adventures and heroic deeds! I’ve read the scripts of your elderly monk friend. Ooh! What was the friar’s name?”

The knight rolled his eyes. He’d never get rid of the young minstrel now, he knew. This sort of attention was the reason why he liked traveling through the open wild country. Out there, meeting people was rare and he preferred to stay unnoticed. 

“Do you mean Brother Gilbert, boy?”

“Yes! Yes, sire! That’s him,” the bard replied and beamed.

“Then you must know, lad, that my adventures are over. All I do these days is wander around the kingdom, seeking… Seeking _peace_. And I help someone from time to time. But such occasions are few and far between.”

“Forgive me, sir, if I’m bothering you but I thought that maybe you could use some company.”

Bowen’s eyebrows furrowed as he traced the edge of his unkempt beard. “You want to come with me?” 

“Aye, sir. At least for a while? I will be good company, I promise. I know a lot of well-written songs to entertain you with – some of them are mine… And crowds praise my tenor in every town I go to.”

“I see you don’t lack self-assurance, but I’m afraid that I must turn your offer down. Go to another city. I like to be alone,” the older man said firmly, ready to go on his not-so-merry way.

“In sorrow, Sir Bowen? You might like to be alone, I just doubt that you enjoy being lonely,” the bard commented. He walked to the horse’s side, patted its raven fur with one hand, and took a firm hold of the older man’s knee with the other. The bard studied the knight’s troubled face as he froze in the saddle, not moving a single muscle. His stunning blue eyes were full of unending sadness and he hated to see his hero in such a miserable state. 

“Please, sir. At least for this evening, accept my company. Take it as a thank you for everything you’ve done for our land. Note that my services are otherwise expensive. But I would be honored to sing to you for free.”

 _Hopefully, you will pay me in another way which is much more precious to me,_ he thought, biting his chapped lower lip and averting his eyes from Bowen. 

The knight sighed and reached to rub his temple with his thumb and forefinger. He supposed the boy was right – he was lonely. Ever since he decided to leave the castle and his knightly duties. He called it retirement. But truthfully, it was nothing such. Bowen was just trying to chase the past by revisiting his old campsites and he was busy drowning in the misery of loss.

“Follow, bard,” he bade and dismounted, knowing that it would be demeaning if the minstrel had to walk while he was on horseback. 

*** 

Bowen set his things down just beside the fire and heaved a heavy sigh. He looked around, examining the cliff, the deep canyon beneath it, and the forest just behind his back. A sad nostalgia settled on his chest as he looked up at the night sky. He looked to the stars and once he found the glittery serpentine constellation, he sought Draco. It’s been five years since he’s been here. Five years since he saw his dearest, beloved dragon die.

“This is a nice spot for camping!” the bard remarked, placing his lute atop the knight’s saddle, and sat down. He crossed his legs and stretched his back. He was very glad to rest after the long journey. They traveled the whole day, quietly, and he hoped that now he’d finally get Bowen to talk.

The knight hummed. He realized that his eyes were burning and thus blinked rapidly, trying to shun the bitter tears. “I haven’t been here for a long while. I almost thought I wouldn’t be able to find this spot.”

“I’ve noticed that you don’t speak much. It doesn’t matter. I will not mind doing most of the talking at times but I hoped you’d share a few stories with me before I start performing my songs. You know, sir… About the adventures which Brother Gilbert didn’t put on the paper. Now, I don’t care to hear about the dragon hunting and other knightly shenanigans. I just…” 

Bowen smirked. Of course, he knew where the young lad was aiming now. And he wasn’t afraid to call him out for it. “You want to hear about Draco, don’t you?”

The bard scratched his elbow, eyes wide, and cleared his throat in embarrassment. “Eh, yes. Exactly, sir. I’d greatly appreciate it if you would share, Bowen. But I understand if you do not want to. It must be hard for you to talk about him, I imagine.”

“It’s harder than hard, bard. You don’t know the half of it.”

The young man strangled a giggle and whispered: “That’s what she said.”

Bowen rolled his eyes and slapped his forehead. The stupid joke made him cringe and wince in annoyance. He grabbed his waterskin and took a few gulps of water to wash the hot awkwardness out of his system. “You’re a jolly fellow, aren’t you…?” The man paused, throwing locks of long blond hair over his shoulder, and squinted at the minstrel. “What was your name again, kid?”

“Oh!” The boy smiled apologetically and stretched his hand towards Bowen. The knight took it. For a second, he was astonished by his firm grip and calloused palm. The knight’s touch felt warm and pleasant. “It seems that I have forgotten to introduce myself. Please, forgive me, Sir Bowen. My name is John. I’m the infamous bard of Londinium. The weak-minded peasants and lords who live there drove me out of the city, claiming that I have an odd taste and unacceptable wants.”

“Well, John, the infamous bard of Londinium. I, too, think that you have an odd taste. It would seem that you like to torture people,” Bowen commented and, seeing that the minstrel was confused and scared, tried to elaborate on his thought. “Isn’t it enough for you that my heart is torn and bleeding? The wound Draco has caused is not mended, not healed and it never will be. Yet you want to pour salt into it and tear it more open.” 

The knight sighed and settled by the bard’s side, resting his weight on his elbows as he lay back. He, once again, glanced up at the sky. “But the pain is already as intense as it can get. The wound is a raw hole in my heart and it cannot grow anymore. That’s why I will answer you, lad. So speak up. Ask.”

John didn’t waste any time. He pulled a small scroll out of his satchel and pouted. It was a picture of an ugly frog-like shabby dragon. He handed it to Bowen, declaring: “What did he look like? Brother Gilbert’s made this drawing of him. Though I believe it’s not very accurate.”

“It’s truly not.” Bowen grabbed the paper and squished it into a ball. He was mad at the monk for creating such a terrible caricature of his dear dragon but the disgust in his heart was quickly flooded out by love and pain. His eyes were mirroring those feelings to the outside world shamelessly. “This awfulness doesn’t match him by any means. Draco was… Draco was the epitome of power. It was buzzing from his entire being the same way warmth radiates off the sun. And his eyes… Oh, his eyes. Like two deep uncanny wells of liquid amber. They made me realize how small a man is.”

“Figuratively, I reckon.”

The knight nodded and smiled, remembering the old days clearly. “I could not stand looking into them for the first couple of days we spent together. Eye contact with Draco made me question whether my beliefs were ever true. I always thought that dragons were nothing more than sly talking lizards with little to no human traits. He taught me that dragons were equal to men. If they were not more, that is.”

“I trust he wasn’t green and yellow either,” the bard continued, eager to listen. He was basking in the fact that he made the knight talk.

Bowen knew that the bard was just trying to pull more details and information out of him, but he didn’t mind it, really. He was drowning in a deep blue sea of nostalgia, heartbroken and aching. “You are right again, lad. His scales – the little ones - were the color of smoky quartz. Those on his broad chest were golden and the large plates on his back were like obsidian…”

The knight’s eyes fluttered and then he continued to speak. “He moved with unearthly grace, threateningly large and terrifyingly beautiful. Underneath that scary yet glorious exterior and firm muscles, he was full of love, kindness, and mercy. You wouldn’t believe just how good he was.” 

A single tear slid down Bowen’s flushed, red cheek.

“You must have been very close, Bowen. You’re making me miss Draco due to your words, even though I’ve never even seen him.”

“Of course we were close. He saved my life… And I could not save his.” The older man wiped the salty droplet away before it reached the edge of his jaw. He sobbed, hiding his face in his palms. “Man doesn’t know what he has until he loses it. I’ve only had Draco for a short while but it was enough to make me realize that I have always needed him. And now that he is gone, I… I feel more stranded than before I met him.”

John shifted closer to the knight, tugging the warm fuzzy blanket with him, and gently placed his hand on Bowen’s droopy shoulder. He guessed only a few men made the knight cry and the fact that he was one of them made him feel sick. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought this up. I would not if I knew that you loved him so much,” he said, concern obvious in his voice.

“It’s all right, John. I am not angry,” the knight said reassuringly, giving him a warm smile. 

“I know, Sir Bowen. I’m just sorry that I upset you.”

That made Bowen chuckle. “I’m upset all the time, kid. It isn’t your fault.”

“Will it help to get your mood up if I sing now, sir?”

A sad smile was once again tugging at the corners of the knight’s mouth. The bard sounded just like Draco. The dragon also always tried to settle his nerves with gentle melodies and loving words. “Yes. That would be kind of you,” he agreed, voice but a whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! I would love to know what you think about this story so far. Please, let me know in the comments. :) 
> 
> PS: I apologize for my English, I'm not a native speaker.


	2. Chapter 2

“I have truly had a good time with you, Bowen. And I would be more than honored to meet Kara, the fair red-haired warrior. She must be a hell of a woman.”

“Listen,” Bowen said softly, turning around to face the disappointed bard, and patted his shoulder. This shook the young one’s entire body since he had a rather fragile, light form. “It isn’t that I don’t appreciate your company. You’re a good entertainer and a great singer too but I already told you everything you could possibly need to know to finish your poem. And besides, my meetings with Kara are quite rare and very personal, to say the least. I want them to be completely private. That means no outsiders, no matter how much I like them.”

“Do you truly want me to leave now? I could escort you to her house and spend a few more minutes with you. I’m just worried that I might never see you again,” John uttered, voice sad and quiet.

“Yes, I believe that would be for the best. And worry not, lad. I am sure we will bump into each other eventually. It’s a small country we live in, after all.” Bowen coughed into the crook of his elbow, clearing his aching throat. He’s been feeling very dizzy ever since he woke up but he was not making much of it. With a sharp inhale, he mounted his steed and wriggled in the saddle, trying to find a comfortable position. “When we meet,” the knight continued, “you can show me your work. I’ll gladly read it.”

“All right. Farewell, Sir Bowen,” the bard muttered and slowly walked away, head hanging down. He glanced over his shoulder a couple of times as he was heading back to the village along the wide forest road. 

“Bye.”

Bowen watched him disappear around the corner and bit the inner side of his right cheek. He grew a bit fond of the minstrel and let him stay far longer than he intended at first. The boy was full of energy and had many questions - he was Bowen’s opposite and the knight thought his presence would annoy him. But even through their differences, it didn’t happen. 

As the knight’s horse trotted through a small meadow and crossed a little buzzing creek, Bowen realized that he felt awfully alone. Everything was suddenly so, _so_ quiet without the bard’s jabbering. 

He couldn’t wait to meet the redhead and her husband. 

* * * 

Bowen climbed off his horse and tethered it to the short fence. He petted the animal’s neck, thanking it for its work, and faced the lovely wooden cottage. It stood alone amid a pretty red poppy field, surrounded by poplar trees. The wind was carrying a beautiful sweet scent but tons of pollen as well, making Bowen sneeze as the small beads tickled in his nose. 

He walked to the door and knocked. Grabbing his cloak, he nervously rubbed the thick fabric between his fingers. It’s been a long while since he saw Kara and he was worried that she might not welcome him. 

The woman had a short temper. It would not surprise him if she’d be angry with him. 

_And I am too thick-skulled to visit her more often,_ he thought.

The door creaked.

Bowen’s blue eyes immediately darted to the redhead’s concerned face. She had a few more wrinkles on her face but other than that, it seemed that she didn’t age a day. Years could not damage her grace. 

At first, she greeted him with a loving smile. Then she leaped onto him, hugging him with all her might, and pulled away only to kiss his stubbled cheek. 

“Bowen!” Kara cried happily, tangling her fingers in his golden hair. She noticed they were dusted with a few gray strands. “It’s been months! Oh, I’ve missed you so much! Please, come in. Robert will be very happy to see you.”

Bowen let out a relieved sigh and cradled her smooth cheek in his hand. “I’ve missed you too, lass,” he whispered. She was warm and her eyes were practically gleaming with pure joy. “You look amazing as always.”

Kara giggled at the compliment and grabbed him by the hand, pulling him into the small, cozy cottage. It was nice inside, full of furniture and bookshelves. The lass must’ve fallen in love with them after Gilbert taught her how to read. 

Bowen looked around some more and noticed that the home had three separate rooms. One of them was undoubtedly the bedroom. He shook his head as Kara seated him on a bench by a long table and left him there alone for a short while.

Bowen huffed and set his bag down by the table’s legs. As the knight bent over, he felt his lungs squeeze and had to sit up straight again. Another violent cough emitted from his chest. It felt dry and his throat was getting almost unbearably sore. 

He knew it wasn’t good at all when his head started to spin. He was about to touch his forehead and check whether his temperature was right when Kara strutted back into the hall, followed by her husband Robert. 

He was a sturdy man with raven black hair and prominent eyebrows. Bowen was an inch or two taller than him but far thinner. 

The knight managed to notice that Kara gave him her father’s headband, as it was wrapped about his wrist. The piece of fabric reminded him of the rebellion, of Einon, pain, disillusion, and of Draco. Bowen felt the fervent longing grow stronger in the pit of his stomach and he didn’t desire to deal with it at the moment.

“Hello, old friend!” Robert called, shaking Bowen’s hand. He sat down at the opposite end of the table and tugged Kara closer. She put her delicate palm on top of her husband’s shoulder. “How are you? What are you up to these days? More adventures?” 

He was smiling at him broadly, beaming. 

The knight tried to raise the corners of his mouth. But neither of them was buying it - their pleased expressions slowly twisted into frowns. Bowen had to admit that his act was not too convincing. How was he supposed to feign happiness when sadness was sinking its teeth into his aching soul? He tried to ignore their worries and flailed his arms around to emphasize his words.

“I’m… I am just wandering around the kingdom,” Bowen muttered. “I met a young bard a couple of days ago. He was a rather entertaining fellow with a large appetite for information about the old days. He sort of reminded me of Brother Gilbert, but, obviously, he was not a monk. We parted ways today. Other than that, nothing interesting has happened to me lately. Ah, you both know I’m not much of a talker and that I live a boring life. I’d rather hear how it is going with you, lovebirds.”

“Well, Kara gave birth to our first child,” Robert announced, sounding like the proudest father, and patted Kara’s hand. “A daughter! She’s the cutest thing on Earth, I swear. Never have I seen such a lovely creature. Perhaps it’s because of her mother’s beauty.”

“May I see her?” the knight asked humbly. He hasn’t held a small child for nearly two whole decades and for some reason, an opportunity to see a baby made his heart flutter. 

Maybe fatherly instincts started kicking in. It was about time, he supposed.

“Of course!” Kara agreed and took him by the hand once more. Together, they walked into the child’s room, while Robert grabbed a chunk of bread and started eating, not moving from the table. 

The room was far tinier than the main one, probably a renovated pantry where they used to store food before the baby was born. There was a crib in its corner and a petite baby was dozing in it, huddled in soft animal furs. 

Bowen stepped closer and leaned over the wooden railing, eyes softening. For a while, the knight felt completely overwhelmed by love. A child was the purest of gifts - the greatest, most magical one. He had to admire Kara for giving life to such an innocent being.

“Go on, Bowen,” Kara suggested sweetly, giggling. “You can hold her if you want to. She will not cry, don’t worry. She’s a friendly little rascal.”

The knight reached into the crib and took the baby into his hands, letting the girl settle her small head in the crook of his elbow. He nuzzled the baby’s temple and took in her unique scent. She smelled amazing - like new life, like hope. Her skin was pale and softer than silk. 

Bowen was genuinely afraid that he might crush her in his hold or scratch her with his calloused palms. Gently, he pressed a loving kiss into the girl’s reddish hair. 

The resemblance between her and Kara was undeniable. She even had her brown doe eyes. 

Kara must have been so happy to have her own family. 

He’d never have it, he knew.

Not without Draco. 

Not with him gone.

“She is gorgeous,” Bowen stated softly, holding back his cough. It was tickling in the back of his throat and it took a lot of effort to keep it under control. “She is the future at its finest,” he continued. “You and Robert must be so proud to have such a precious bundle… Kara? May I know what her name is?”

“Cassie,” Kara replied. Tears were glittering at the edges of her dark eyes as she spoke. She reached out and stroked her child’s cheek. Without a single word, she leaned against Bowen and rested her head on his strong shoulder. Her sudden action made him examine her face. “Cassie is short for Cassiopeia. I… I wanted to give her a name Draco would like. Robert agreed with it and helped me search for the right one. The stars of Cassiopeia’s constellation are close to Draco, so we thought it would be suitable,” she explained and wiped the salty drops away from her cheekbones. 

“It’s perfect, lass,” Bowen said, finally able to smile honestly. Kara’s words made his heart melt. How kind she was! “I’m sure Draco would love it.”

A short silence followed. Kara only smiled at him and took the baby from his hands, laying it back into the bed. She caressed his forearm and her touch was motherly, full of fondness. “Please, Bowen, stay for the night. We have a spare bed. You look very tired and I can see that you’ve also lost some weight and muscle. When was the last time you ate properly? Something warm, homemade, and cooked? When was the last time you enjoyed yourself and had some fun?”

The knight shrugged, even though he knew the answer. After all, he could not tell Kara that he lived in constant sadness ever since the love of his life died.

“Oh, my dear knight!” she wept, embracing him tightly. “Draco would not want you to live like this! You know that! You know just how _much_ he loved you. And I love you too, Bowen. You’re my best friend.”

“I know, I know…” Bowen’s eyebrows furrowed in guilt. She was right. As always. 

“Bowen, I implore you - try to get it together. If not for me, then try for Draco.”

“Do you think I have not tried? B-but… I cannot force myself into living a normal happy life. He was all I had, Kara! My tomorrow, my hope…” The knight paused and shook his head, scoffing. “You know, I… I thought my heart broke the day I saw Einon for who he truly was. But it was merely cracked. Draco was the one who broke it. He shattered it into pieces when he left me here alone. _Alone._ Each day, each minute I miss him and want him. This sorrow, it’s torture. Yet I need to feel it. I understand that you’ll never be able to comprehend that. It’s crazy. And maybe I am too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please, let me know what you think about the chapter in the comments. I would truly appreciate your insight. :)


	3. Chapter 3

After Bowen had brought his trusty steed into the small stable, which stood just behind the cottage, he tied the reins around a strong wooden pole in its middle. His horse didn’t like being indoors - it spent most of its life on fresh air, happily chewing grass - and the knight respected it. He just wanted to brush its hide and hair in warmth, since he was still feeling tremendously bad.

He had hoped that this sickness would be merely temporary but slowly, he began to understand that it wasn’t the case at all. His throat was even sorer than a few hours back and his muscles started to ache just as badly.

He took the stallion’s saddle off, eyeing the big old donkey. It was staring at him so intensely, that it was seriously unnerving the knight and his horse wasn’t too happy about the gelding’s piercing gaze either. Bowen was worried that as soon as he’d stop paying attention, the old boy would attack with furious kicks and ferocious, painful bites. 

With a huff, Bowen grabbed a fistful of hay from the stash and started brushing his animal’s shiny black fur. When he was finished with the upper half of the horse’s body, he knelt and reached into his satchel, pulling out a waterskin and a worn rag. He poured water over the fabric and did his best to wash all the mud off his steed’s legs. The brown substance had stood out on its white socks and it had been especially unappealing. 

“You have gotten yourself a new horse, I see, Bowen.”

Bowen jerked in surprise when Robert’s rich voice filled the room. He quickly stood up, ignoring the darkness which filled his vision for a short moment, and brushed the sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead. The other man was smiling at him, hands on his hips… His posture was relaxed, but the knight could make out the uncertainty in his eyes.

“Oh, yes. The one I had before passed away about a year ago,” he replied softly, not sure whether Robert’s company was pleasing him or not. “I liked that horse. We had a bond, you know? He was a good steed - reliable, fast, and quick to endure any conditions. I mean, he got used to flying.”

“I’m sorry for that. Losing an animal is hard.” Robert walked over to the donkey’s small pen and leaned onto the railing. Bowen stepped closer, but didn’t dare to approach the mule’s territory - he thought it would be just as stupid as pulling the tail of a vindictive mountain lion. “This ass over here, Norbert, belonged to my parents, once upon a time. He’s thirty, would you believe that?”

“Oof, that’s an impressive age.”

“Indeed!” The peasant chuckled, shaking his head. “He’s a bastard but I still love him wholeheartedly…. Anyway,” Robert said, returning to the knight and the horse, “what’s this black rapscallion’s name? If he has any, that is.”

“He is Bucephalus,” Bowen answered and raised his eyebrows. Robert looked shocked, horrified even. Maybe the peasant found the name too complicated and weird.

“Jesu! Where did you get that from, knight?”

“Bucephalus was the name of Alexander the Great’s stallion. The unbeatable warrior-king conquered empires on his back. I named him that in honor of the Macedonian’s deeds and the horse’s strength.”

“Alexander who?” Robert asked, cocking his head to the right like a confused puppy, and pouted. He, obviously, had no idea what on Earth Bowen’s been talking about. 

“Ah, forget it! I merely wanted to say that I do not have the brain to come up with something as good-sounding on my own.” Bowen waved a hand, realizing that Robert was but a peasant, after all. 

He didn’t come from a rich family, which would pay him for an educated teacher. He knew nothing about the history of foreign countries, great leaders, or terrifying tyrants. The knight thought it was a shame. Not only because education would be useful even for the common folk, but also because he could talk about history with anyone without explaining a thousand years of human evolution. 

“Why! You are a clever man, Bowen,” Robert stated firmly, still smiling warmly at the fair-haired knight. He gently put his hand on Bowen’s shoulder blade and gave him a _look_. It made the other man uncomfortable, but he didn’t say anything about it. It wasn’t that the knight did not appreciate a friendly touch… This was just odd. 

“Listen. You should stop drowning in misery. Get yourself together, please. We are very worried about your well-being - we care about you… Maybe, there’s something I could do to help you. I-I have talked to Kara and we’ve agreed that I could distract you a little, if you wish.” 

Robert’s hands slid down, caressing Bowen’s spine before it settled on his lower back. He was kneading the space between the two dimples of the knight’s back, rubbing his skin through the fabric of his tunic. Robert’s touches were slow and more loving than Bowen wanted them to be. They sent tingles all over his body and hotness rose to his cheeks, making them burn with shame.

That’s why he slapped the peasant’s arm away roughly. “I do not know why Kara told you about my preferences, but she should have been quiet,” he spoke, voice firm but not angry. He knew Robert wasn’t doing this to embarrass him. “Do not touch me like this again, please. What I had with Draco was _ours_ , it was special… I wish not to experience it with anyone else but him. Understood?”

“Yes, Bowen.” Robert nodded and averted his eyes from the knight. “I’m… I’m really sorry. Please, forgive me. I just thought,” the man whispered, shrugging, “that a bit of affection might be just what you need right now. You know, after months in the wilderness and all that.”

“That’s okay, Rob. You just wanted to help, I cannot be mad at you even though your offer was inappropriate. However, I would rather welcome a hug.”

Robert’s lips curled up again when the knight said that. He pulled him into a long, friendly embrace and Bowen willingly rested his head on the other man’s big shoulder. It was nice to lean onto someone and just rest. For a while, he even forgot that his throat was killing him. 

“I hope I didn’t offend you,” he commented quietly, muttering the words into the peasant’s tunic. “I appreciate that you both are so willing to lend a hand. But neither of you can satisfy my needs and I wouldn’t like you to try.”

“I get it, Bowen. You mustn’t be happy that Kara told me about you and Draco. People tend to hate when two men have a… _relationship_ \- let alone a man and a dragon. But know that I am not judging you by any means! My ma, she used to say that love tends to bloom at the most unusual places and that it is the most beautiful thing in the world. I think the same. She taught me that shaming and killing people purely based on the fact that they love someone, or are attracted to someone, is crazy. I say that, and I still consider myself a man of faith. I trust that God would never damn someone over love.”

_You may not be very educated, Robert… But a lot of people out there, peasants and lords, could learn a thing or two from you._

“Thank you. It is truly comforting and nice to know that you…” Bowen put a palm on his chest as a violent cough emitted from his throat, breaking the embrace. His legs almost gave out as he was choking and quickly braced himself against Bucephalus’ strong rump. He felt so dizzy, sick, and tired that his head was spinning. 

“Oh, dammit!” he cursed once his lungs settled, gasping for breath. The knight spat the bad taste out of his mouth and touched his forehead. It was burning. “This is not good at all.”

Robert rushed to support him, once more wrapping his arms around the knight’s torso. “You aren’t well, Bowen… Here, let me help you get to bed. You need to rest,” the peasant suggested.”

“O-okay… Okay. Let’s go. But untie my stallion first.”

Robert hoisted Bowen better, finding a comfortable position, and walked him to the house. The knight’s stallion followed them to the door obediently. When the peasant kicked the door open, Kara rushed to them and helped her husband lead Bowen to the spare bed. 

He sprawled onto the cot and coughed again, politely covering his mouth.

“Oh, Bowen! You silly man!” Kara cried, laying a hand on his face. “You need medicine!”

“N-no,” the knight protested weakly. “I will be fine, I promise. Just let me… Let me take a nap…”

His eyelids fluttered. He felt weak and unsteady like a newborn foal. So, _so_ helpless. He passed out in a minute or two, sleep overtaking his tired mind.

* * * 

_Bowen._

The knight tossed and turned on the bed, still sleeping dreamlessly. Well, not so dreamlessly. He heard a strange, faint voice. It was calling out to him so softly that he almost couldn’t make out his name.

_Bowen._

_Come to me._

The knight woke up only to realize that he felt awful. He coughed, tasting copper in his mouth, and sat up. An unpleasant feeling that he might throw up settled in his stomach. But something managed to rattle him even more. Through the window, he could see a bright flash of light that blinded him, and then a loud bang echoed through the field. 

The voice started to ring in his ears even more urgently. He still could not decide whether it was male or female, nor conclude if he knew it at all. But it had the effect of a siren call, magnetic and irresistible. 

Bowen stumbled out of the bed, carefully standing up. His knees were, unfortunately, too weak, heavy and he fell to the ground. 

As his vision was no longer blurry, he realized that it was the middle of the night. The piece of the sky which he could see was pitch black. And someone was in the room with him. He looked to the left, hearing soft snores. 

They were coming from Kara. She was sitting on the bench, head resting on the table. 

_She must have been watching over me,_ he thought, _and fell asleep in the process as she was no longer able to keep her eyes open. What a caring lass. The world does not deserve her._

Kara was dozing so peacefully… It made Bowen’s chest tighten. He was thankful for everything she’s doing for him.

_Bowen._

It was that voice again, filling his mind. An invisible force pushed him forward, even through sickness and pain. He got up, walked to the door quietly, limping, and grabbed his belt from the floor. Bowen put it on, making sure to have his sword at the ready if needed. Then, he stepped outside and closed the door carefully. He didn’t want to make too much noise and wake Kara, Rob, or their sweet baby daughter.

When the cold night breeze caressed his face, it felt like a blessing. For a moment, the fever didn’t seem so bad and he was able to think straight. He looked up at the glittery heavens. Everything appeared to be perfectly normal, except that… Except that Draco’s stars weren’t shining as brightly as on other nights.

Bucephalus whinnied, gaining Bowen’s full attention. The knight came to him and patted his neck. The horse was excited. It was stretching its neck towards the dark forest, upper lip high, and ears perked up. As if the sounds of insects and owls were covering something that no human could hear.

“Everything is good, boy,” he muttered, choking yet another cough, and almost lost his balance. He heaved and continued to speak in a quiet, calming voice even when it was rough and unpleasant due to the illness. Bowen’s eyes fell upon the forest again and he caught a glimpse of a few broken trees. “I’m going to check what’s happening. Stay and be quiet. I’ll be back in no time.”

Thus, he headed into the woods, ignoring the call of reason.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you very much for reading. I hope you liked this chapter at least a bit. I'd love to know how you feel about it so far... And what do you think will happen next? :)  
> Thanks again! Until next time!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! I would love to know what you think about this story so far. Please, let me know in the comments. :) 
> 
> PS: I apologize for my English, I'm not a native speaker.


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